


you're stronger than you could ever imagine;

by orphan_account



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Based off an RP event, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Isa is a dad, Namine's name doesn't have accents in this fic bc idk how to do them on keyboard woops, Naminé lives with Isa and she is his daughter and that's canon, Naminé-centric (Kingdom Hearts), Not Beta Read, References to Depression, References to Major Character Injury, Weird Characterization but I'm just vibing, post kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: kindness is one of the most valuable strengths, and yet, it takes many people a long, long time to ever realize that fact. and so, they lean towards the obvious: strength that is gained from power, destruction, failing to realize what it means to impact someone's life though the small gestures.
Relationships: Isa & Naminé (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	you're stronger than you could ever imagine;

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhh today the author learns that they are bad at summary and coming up with titles;; and also paragraph fragmenting is wack we just die
> 
> this fic was inspired by another rp event that happened with namine (and i'm mainly choreographing her development so far) but what i essentially planned for her was to get a weapon - still unsure if keyblade or non-keyblade, and to start relying on it as much as possible, bc i imagine her time in castle oblivion has drilled into her head that she will only ever be worth as much as her powers (at least, imo) so once she gets the chance to prove herself in a different way, she latches onto it and refuses to let it go. and so she has this weird thirst for strength in an effort to make her seem worth more than her memory powers.
> 
> aaa it's weird, but anyway, i know that most people tend to interpret isa, lea, roxas, and xion becoming a family, but i love entertaining the idea of isa and namine having a father-daughter relationship. it's an odd dynamic, but it's very sweet.

The fact that the skies weren’t any different from when she fell asleep was unnerving. Only a few hours, before the visions of glowing shooting stars and pools of blood started to force its way into her dreams. The star couldn’t keep all of her nightmares at bay, it seems. 

So she took her place on the couch, curling her fingers into her palms and saying nothing. Naminé was hunched over, head hanging low. If she had tilted it backwards, the feeling was much too similar to -- well, she was already familiar with how _that_ felt.

If it were four months earlier, she would be prone to tears, clinging onto Isa for any kind of support she could find. Back then, her nightmares would taunt her with visions of a painful death, one where she would never come back. Injuries that seem far too gruesome to even consider, and each time she woke from these dreams, she would pull back the sleeves of her shirt to make sure that lacerations didn’t litter her arms. 

But the fear wasn’t there anymore. Now, she had to relive the pain. 

It should be easy. She had faced death and lived, if her battle scars --Isa would get this _odd_ look in his eyes whenever she had called them that-- had anything to prove. Jagged marks on her various parts of her skin, where magic collided with her body, where weapons of all kinds nearly tore it apart. 

She should be strong now. She should be fine. 

She had fought for the things she loved, fought to die with no hesitation, so long as her goal was fulfilled. She had fought with purpose, to protect, to love. There was one more injury: one she had dubbed _‘The Scar.’_ One of the most prominent scars she had, a permanent reminder of the Hunt. The Scar: a jagged discolored mark over her eye, trailing from her eyebrow to her upper cheek. It was there to prove that she should be stronger, that she should be better, that she shouldn’t be up in arms about a simple dream that replayed her worst fears when she had already experienced them first-hand so--

So why was she shaking so _badly?_

Plenty of people have forced themselves to be ‘strong.’ After many, many attempts, she became strong too. **_Training her body each day to its absolute limit,_** where she would collapse on the ground, arms and legs numb as she tries to fight the pain through her tears and lift her limbs again, ready to start another set, even if her body was screaming against her, **_prioritizing the most important things,_** where she would isolate herself from others again, claiming that she needed to focus on her ability to protect and how to use her powers more efficiently, **_and proving to Isa that she could be strong._** where she would vehemently refuse his help, determined to make a stand of her own, proving that she was more than her memory powers, that her chains could serve purpose, that she wouldn’t have to fall back on the same old habits that had trapped her in the Castle in the first place. 

Her usual kindness fell away. She didn’t notice it at first, until Olette had passed by her one Sunday morning-- or was it evening--, creasing her eyebrows and pouting her lips, remarking how much Naminé had changed. But change was good, right? She wasn’t the kind, shy girl anymore. 

She was beginning to change beyond all recognition.

Naminé had changed quite a lot, and she was determined to make herself useful. One might raise an eyebrow, and ask if she was living for herself or for others. She wouldn’t be able to answer that question. Her ‘ _strength_ ’ was starting to degrade into a poorly-fabricated facade. Just when she thought one stressful mirror image was enough- she was unlucky enough to find another one on some unassuming morning.

This one was different: it had the same blue eyes before she had ever fallen into that spiral, the same mixture of quiet determination and kindness pooling in azure hues. The Naminé she should be, but is not. This one didn’t say much, compared to her sharp-tongued, greyed-out copy. Though, each time she looked into those eyes, she found a sort of… contempt, towards her weaker self. She hated how her ‘ _weaker self_ ’ and her ‘ _true self_ ’ seemed to be one in the same.

Minutes ticked by, maybe hours. She didn’t hear Isa step into the room, coming across his daughter attempting to pummel the weaker part of her psyche into oblivion with what she seemed to consider self-discipline. Naminé would try her hardest to handle them solemnly, quietly. Most nights, they worked- the fear would go away, and she would return to a sleepless rest, all without bothering him. She could be capable- she could be strong. 

He steps in front of her, kneeling and pulling her hands away from her face. Naminé looks down at her palms, eyes widening once she sees how deep the crescent-moon marks were embedded into her skin. Isa stares at the marks for a moment, before retrieving a few tissues, dabbing away at the little drops of blood. It felt familiar- like a time where kindness was-- no. It would never be. 

She swallows thickly. _“How did you get so strong?_ ” Her voice quivers, unsure of what to make of his answer, whatever it might be. 

At first, he didn't answer. He simply focuses on making sure the blood is properly cleaned, gently tilting her hands to see if any more drops would emerge. He wasn’t sure what to make of this question either. Though, one thing was certain. It was _extremely_ unsettling to see how much she has changed. Pushing away her friends in favor of more training, narrowing in on the missions whenever Master Yen Sid decided to send one in her direction and focusing on completing them with nothing else to consider, clamping down on her emotions so tightly that he never saw her cry, get angry, laugh… _anything._ He was beginning to see _too much_ of himself in her, and the mere idea of her demeanor reaching anywhere close to Saïx was nightmare-worthy. 

He answers ambiguously, leaving more room for interpretation. _“Not everyone grows strong in the same way.”_

Isa grew stronger through a heavy set of hellish trials: some of them being his own self-destructive behavior, others being the cruel actions of someone else. Trying to protect her from anyone who may cause her harm was a hopeless cause, destined to fail. Each time he wakes up and sees his daughter, _The Scar_ serves as a cruel reminder of how he wasn’t able to protect her, for the second time, and she now faces trauma that may plague her for many years to come. But… he would be damned if he let her continue the same road of self-destruction that he once tread. 

She answers predictably. _“How do I become strong?”_

Isa holds back his knee-jerk response, to respond with the words _‘but you’re already strong,’_ knowing that she would be unsatisfied. Truthfully, he hated that she even had to ask that kind of question. It meant that she didn’t find strength in the unimaginable amounts of light within her heart, or in the kindness she presented to everyone around her. Her perspective of strength was beginning to become narrow-minded. He held her hands, his mind drifting to the time they first met. She was confused by how much value he placed in that memory -- which meant she had yet to see the strength she wields with her kindness. An outstretched hand and kind words impacted the heart much more than brute force, the star charm he kept on his bedside stand was proof of that. Or --he secretly dreads this possibility-- she was told to believe that kindness was not strength: despite all evidence to the contrary. 

But, that was another story to tell. She hadn’t come forward with everything, some of them were still too painful to see again, even in memory. But all was well: he would extend the same kindness she had given to him, without any judgement. He had actively worked against her, snarling like an injured wolf. And she sat there, extending a hand for him to take, for him to step forward into the new life he’s been given. He would do the same, to the best of his ability. Kindness may not be _his_ forte, but it was definitely hers. 

Isa would guide her towards the light, to a path where kindness would be her strength - and away from the path of oblivion, where strength could only be measured by how much destruction and chaos one could bring. And as he guides her, he would stare into the darkness, staring at Saïx and all of the ideals that built _him_ to be Rank VII of the Organization, and threatens him to _try_ and pull his daughter onto the same path. 

Sure, the guardians were strong in their own ways. Drawing upon the powers of darkness itself, or drawing upon the powers of light. Deriving strength from connections and championing the ones they loved. But this kindness would be hers. 

_How do I become strong?_

Her question echoes in his mind again, and he finally looks up at her, and realizes that she’s been staring at him this whole time. Her eyes were different: at first, they were tired, worn, but still fiercely determined to follow the same path. A different spark filled them now, curiosity and hesitancy twinkling within the golden orbs. If this answer could become something that she carried in her heart, then he would repeat those words over and over. Isa smiles up at her, her words reverberating in his mind. 

_“By being kind.”_  
  



End file.
